


Moonlight of Orinoco Flow on the Clair de Lune

by Queerking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Batcave, Fluff, M/M, brotp castiel and sam, feelings admitted, piano playing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerking/pseuds/Queerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's fingers glide effortlessly along the pearly white and shining black keys of the grand instrument. They hit every key without hesitation or error. He let's his voice carry through out the halls of the batcave. "Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow..." his memories trail to hearing the song for the first time, when it was just an idea in the women, Enya's, head. He doesn't understand why he chose this song to play, he doesn't exactly have a favorite song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight of Orinoco Flow on the Clair de Lune

It's been three days since Dean found Castiel, figuring he couldn't have landed far from them. It turned out the fallen angel fell far ways away and walked as far as he could to the Men of Letters Cave. He found him passed out like last time, but on the side of the road. When they got back, Cas helped Dean get Sam out of the car and into his room. Castiel was quiet the entire time. So that made Dean ramble once they dumped Sam onto his bed. 

"Well glad you're back and kicking it again with us Cas. I'd give you the grand tour but I gotta get to the store and pick up a few things. Make sure Sam stays put if he wakes up, and dude.. loose the damn clothes, you look uncomfortable and gross. There are some spare in my room, take what fits. It will be in the closet." He sighs and Cas just looks at his hands like they have offended him, but nods. With that, Dean takes his leave with one final glance at Sam, then ducks out.

The angel is then left with an unconscious man and a growing smell that he is positive it might be himself. He gets up and wonders into Dean's room. Taking in the smell that can only be Dean, he looks to the made up bed, the display of machete's and knives, then the desk with a picture of their mother and Dean himself, four years old and happy. Castiel hasn't seen the hunter look that happy since he found Cas in Purgatory. His heart feels heavy suddenly, and can only relate it to the feeling of heartache. Wanting the feeling to go away he turns to look for the closet. Across the room is another door he can only guess is his destination.

When he opens the door, he is met with a lot of plaid.

He walks back into Sam's room, clad in a black shirt, jeans that are ripped and only to see the taller man staring up at the ceiling. "You should probably sleep, Sam." Its the first thing he's said since they got back. But the man just shakes his head barely and blinks. Castiel takes a seat on the edge of Sam's bed. "You know sometimes I wonder.. Did my mom ever know how to do cool things? Like when she stopped being a hunter, did she learn how to sow, sing, knit, bake, things that would keep her busy? I always thought that maybe she learned to play the piano, and sang. Like Amazing Grace, or You are my sunshine." He laughed, his voice was just above hysterics. It seems as though Sam has melted down into something less sane again, his wonderment and mine racing like he has forever to live.

"Castiel. Could you do something for me?" Sam asks, and he sounded like he was asking something for the billionth time. Cas just nodded his head for Sam to continue. He gestures weakly towards the door, "There's a piano room across the hall. Would you mind playing.. Whatever your favorite song is." Sam looked 7 years old with how earnest he sounded and his eyes did that.. Sam thing. Castiel guesses how he got his way when he was a child around Dean. "Very well. This song was written in 1988," Castiel gets up and walks over to the room and finds there a dusty sleek black Grand Piano. When he sits the bench creeks, greeting him to play. He removes the case and thinks about the notes quickly, remembering them being written down. 

Castiel's long fingers glide effortlessly along the pearly white and shining black keys of the grand instrument. They hit every key without hesitation or error. He let's his voice carry through out the halls of the batcave. "Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow..." his memories trail to hearing the song for the first time, when it was just an idea in the women, Enya's, head. He doesn't understand why he chose this song to play, he doesn't exactly have a favorite song. "Sail away, sail away, sail away!" His voice trills softly, and hopes it caries to Sam's room. "from Bissau to Palau, in the shade of Avalon, from Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony," He continues on the song. 

It's a known fact that angel's sang and were musical. Castiel however in heaven like to only listen while he spent time in the part of heaven that he could be at peace. He didn't mind singing, but there was something about listening to every note and a drum beat vibrate in his mind from his brothers. A few years was like a few days in heaven. Time moved at pace to be enjoyed there, not counted until death. They were immortal there so there was no reason to keep count. The angel kept count in songs and beats. 10 measures of 5 beats meant a week past, 30 measures means a month, but there are only special songs that lasts for months. Humans however did have a thing for writing music, like Ludwig or Wolfgang. Castiel even liked some of the music Dean listened to, it brought life and truth. They told stories that would fit for anyone's head. They kept a small boy who sat in the backseat of a 1967 car entertained and hopeful. Castiel will always be grateful for Dean's music.

"We can reach, we can beach on the shores of Tripoli, we can sail, we can sail," his song is almost ending. Blindingly singing, he continues and thinks maybe Sam might want to hear another because he certainly enjoys playing. The next song he decides will be Moonlight's sonata if Sam wants to hear another. His fingers force the keys, his feet moving on their on to the peddles "Sail away, sail away, sail away..." he got up and went to go check on Sam.

He smiled softly and looked to see that he had fallen asleep. The youngest Winchester was hugging himself though so it meant he was cold. That sprung up the idea for Cas to go to the other side of the bed and flip the covers so they laid over Sam. Exiting the room, he went to the the bathroom, found a bowl, filling it up with water and wet a cloth into it, bringing it back to Sam's room. He dragged a chair over to the side of the man's bed, set the bowl on the stand, sat down and started patting down Sam's face. 

Sam's breathing was calm and he didn't even twitch at the cold cloth. He even seemed to look less tense when it touched his forehead. "How peculiar.." Castiel mutters. Dabbing at the dirt, sweat/tears, and blood. He figured he needs to do this because when he was hauled into the car and into the home, onto a bed with a grumbled "clean up, you look like shit" it was Sam who welcomed him back with open arms, sympathy, and smiles. It was a quality he missed so much when Sam was soulless and he would never get over how stupid he had been trying to get Sam out of Hell. Sighing and saw that there was no more blood and dirt to wipe, the shorter man put the cloth in the bowl, wringing it out, folding it and laid it on Sam's head. He got up and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water for the brother. 

Setting down the water on the night stand for Sam to find later, the angel wondered into the piano room again and sat back on the bench, its creek welcoming him again. He smiled and could already tell that this would be his favorite part of the bunker. Again, his hands glided softly to the tune of Moonlight sonata. This composer was very sorrowful when he wrote this. He saw the pain flow in his mind and onto the score paper, the sadness writing the music, not the man. This song, sadly, reminds him of Dean. It starts off slow and rolling, just like the man. He knew it would take a while until he could get Dean to open to him, to let him know he could find a friend in him. Once that happened he moved onto the other measures, where it stared to minor profusely. It's when Dean was having doubts, when everything was taking a turn for the worse, but then it turned slightly happy, like when he figure out that Dean refused Michael, but then it took the minor again and it continued their story. 

Once he reached Purgatory it took a slow roll, like it took for Dean to find him. Then it tread lightly until it reached the sharper notes, of when he refused Dean of leaving. It was painful to force him, deceive him once again, but he needed penance. He then got to the hill part, which concluded the past weeks. He pressed on the chord for the repeat. Letting the chord ring out, he let go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Wanting to continue, he lightly trailed out Clair de Lune. The notes came like a stream of water, flowing without rest, and no calm. His feet padded on their keys blindly, automatically knowing where to go. The tempo changes from the rush, and now onto snow, slowly turning into ice. Fingers gliding along, the ice melts, not by cracks but by dissolving, piece by piece until its at a slow crawl. The last bits slowly fading and one drip to end the song. 

He tied that song with falling. Falling fast, and in a rush. Not seeing what past him, only knowing that soon it would come to an end. And when it took that slow, and the ice melted, it was himself, looking at the sky of watching his beloved blinded brothers fall. The last drop was the tear that rolled from his face then, and the one for now. He closed the case and rested his head on the black silk. He felt something warm touch his back, looking up to find that it was Dean. "How long have you been back?" He asks, wincing mentally at how broken his voice sounds. The hunter just shakes his head and pull Castiel in for a hug. 

Surprised doesn't cover what Cas feels but he soon is just too tired to care. He gives up, he let's the feelings of loss and abandon take him. They pour out gleefully in tears across pink cheeks and into the hunters chest where Castiel lays his head. He cannot hear Dean's beautiful buzzing soul anymore. He cannot hear his brothers sing, he can't hear Sam's warm soul ring its life, always happy to be alive no matter how beaten it is. "I can't hear it Dean. Anything. It so quiet. So damn quiet." he sobs harder. Suddenly but softly his chin is being lifted, and forced to look into the man's eyes before him. Dean places both hands on either side of his face and pulls him down back to his chest but right on his heart. "Listen." Dean commands quietly. So Castiel does, hearing the soft beating, blood pumping within, keeping this man alive. "Listen to that. I'm alive. And if you go into the next room, you'll hear another just like it. Sammy's alive. And.." Dean had lifted Cas' face but he lowers his own head and drops to listen to Castiel's heartbeat. ",you're alive Cas. That's all you have to listen for now. You have that." his voice is quiet but sure. His head was back up, it was as if he was talking to a child waking from a nightmare. Castiel surely felt that way. "You also have this piano. You play it better than Mozart himself. I know, I've heard." He smiles lightly down at Cas. The angel just looks back with silent awe at how he can quickly fill him with hope. This time he is very sure he does catch Dean's emerald eyes flint down to his lips. 

Castiel closes the distance as a thank you. It's warm just like he'd always imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> So it starts as Cas taking care of Sam but then destiel worms its way in there. Sorry I just love that Sam and Cas will always be besties no matter what bullshit happens.


End file.
